Posts Tagged ‘doing’

That Fierce Embrace

· Friday, 7 Nov 2008, 8 pm

It doesn’t interest me if there is one God
     or many gods.
I want to know
     if you belong or feel
     abandoned.
     If you know despair or can see it in others.
I want to know
     if you are prepared to live in the world
     with its harsh need
     to change you.
     If you can look back
     with firm eyes
     saying this is where I stand.
I want to know
     if you know
     how to melt into that fierce heat of living
     falling toward
     the center of your longing.
I want to know
     if you are willing
     to live, day by day,
     with the consequence of love
     and the bitter
     unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even
     the gods speak of God.

— David Whyte, poem called “Self Portrait”, 1992

The One Thing that Never Changes

· Saturday, 25 Aug 2007, 2 pm

Reality is flowing. This does not mean that everything moves, changes, becomes. Science and common experience tell us that. It means that movement, change, becoming is everything that there is. There is nothing else; everything is movement, is change. The time that we ordinarily think about is not real time, but a picture of space.

— Henri-Louis Bergson [via]

There is one thing that never changes—silence. Silence never changes, never flows, never moves. Silence just is. Silence is the reality that allows flow.

Silence never changes. Only the connotation, your attitude to it, changes depending on the sound or noise you hear before or after the silence, giving you, as Bergson says above, a “picture of space”, or to mix metaphors, an image of sound. The nothingness of silence remains nothing independent of the sound flowing through the the silence.

Silence can be a metaphor for the foundation of existence or being-itself. Silence, which is no-thing, allows sounds and noise to be, to exist as things to change and move. Silence gives a sound its very existence by marking the beginning and end of a sound. Silence gives a sound space and freedom to move and change, to mix with other sounds, to become. But in order for silence to do this, it must not change.

Maybe this is stretching the metaphor too far (I apologize if it breaks), silence is unknown. It is unknown because it is no-thing. Silence also exists on a level of non-duality with sound where there is neither subject nor object. On the surface, this sounds impossible (sorry, pun intended) because it appears that sound displaces silence—either you hear sound or you hear silence. But it is not either/or, it is both/and.

It is nearly impossible to hear or even imagine silence co-existing in the same moment with a sound, but it is there. If you quiet yourself and listen deeply to a sound (it is easiest with music, especially with headphones), there is an underlying stillness along with, under, about, the movement of sounds. Stillness is part of silence.

The very physics of sound carries silence with its very being among the troughs and crests of its sine wave. As the nothingness of space surrounds and permeates all matter, even atoms and subatomic particles, silence surrounds and permeates sound. But unlike space, which can be bent by gravitation, silence never changes. Silence even surrounds and permeates space itself.

Silence just is. It allows sound to be and to do what sound does, to move, to flow, to live. That is what silence does. For silence, be-ing and do-ing are the same.

I love, therefore I am

· Wednesday, 18 Jul 2007, 4 pm

When I was younger, late high school and especially in college, I identified with Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am.” It was the motto for the Age of Rationalism. It is still often used in today’s postmodernism.

After finding faith, or rather faith found me, I believe that Descartes had it backwards—I am, therefore I think. My thinking, my thoughts and even emotions and such are part of me. They exist because I exists, not the other way around. You could make a case for that is what the original statements says, but either way, it causes one to over-identify ones being with their thoughts (and emotions). I am more than just my thoughts and emotions. (Perhaps over-identification with thoughts as being makes it easier to justify abortion and euthanisia?)

Today, I stumbled upon the title of book about an Eastern Orthodox archimandrite named Elder Sophrony, written by his grand nephew. The title plays off of Descartes famous saying while transmitting the real truth—I love, therefore I am.

I guess you could replace the word love with life and still mean the same thing, but love is a much more powerful word. It alludes to the very nature and essence of God, Being Itself (see 1 John 4:7-8). Love is the very essence of existence and being. Love is not a part of me; I am part of love. Life is not something I have; I am a part of life.

I love, therefore I am. When God whispers, “To be,” God is saying that your being is love; go and be and do what you are.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

· Monday, 28 May 2007, 11 pm

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Christ—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

Useless

· Tuesday, 13 Feb 2007, 8 pm

From James Finley’s Merton’s Palace of Nowhere:

In prayer we are “useless.” We do not “do” anything, but rather open ourselves to be the person God calls us to be. The Moslems say, “God does nothing and therefore there is nothing God does not do.” God is beyond pragmatic functions. He is useless, yet by that very fact does all things.

Since we are like God, in our depths we are useless also. So, too, are children and sunsets and the simple recognition of the song of a bird. Death is useless, and so is a simple glance of love. Life itself is useless, for life is to be lived and not ridden in, eaten, packaged, sold, or patented. The self in us is useless and it is prayer that allows us to discover the positive uselessness of life in God.

Do things only become real or valuable when they can be used, manipulated, given purpose?

In uselessness, I am. The uselessness of life, the vanity of it all, is the essence of it all. A paradox. “Life itself is useless, for life is to be lived” — to be, not used. Subject, not object.